


The Maze Games

by OrangePatrick



Series: Old Stuff From Tumblr (Unrelated) [8]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangePatrick/pseuds/OrangePatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he even registered what he was doing, he was pushing through the crowd of boys, rushing towards the stage. A Peacekeeper reached for him, but he shrieked, “I volunteer!” and the soldier fell back. “I volunteer!” he repeated, a mantra until he reached the edge of the stage. “I volunteer as tribute.”</p>
<p>“Tommy,” Newt whispered, horror dawning on his features. “Tommy, no–”<br/>--------------------<br/>an abandoned fic from 2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Thomas dug his nails into his palms with anxiety. A few rows away, Newt was taking deep breaths. They were separated because of their age– Tom was only sixteen, but his best friend was eighteen. Last year. Newt had more than one slip in the bowl, though. Everyone needed that extra food, here in District 11. Still, Thomas crossed his fingers that the blond would make it through this one last year. Across the way, Teresa stood with the other girls. Thomas had grown up with her, but lately they’d been distant. The dark-haired girl stood with her head held high and her shoulders set with a cold indifference that just seemed to add fuel to Tom’s current friction with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if she made it unscathed.

A murmur ran through the crowd as the frilly, pouffy Capitol woman took to the ramshackle stage that had been hastily set up in the center of the district. Her bright blue hair and snow-white skin was certainly out of place amongst all these malnourished, unclean bodies. Thomas shuddered to think about how bad District 12 must be, in comparison. “Ladies first!” the woman cooed, reaching a manicured hand into the glass bowl full of white paper slips. She made a show of it, digging around in those names, but finally pulled out a single paper, unfolding it with a flourish. She waited a moment, for ‘dramatic effect,’ then unfolded it and read the name. “Teresa Agnes!” the blue-haired woman crowed, looking way too excited for her job. Said sixteen-year-old solemnly walked onto the stage.

“This is all s _o_ exciting! Alright, boys, I’m sure you’re getting impatient, so let’s jump to you!” There were just as many paper slips in the boys’ bowl.

Thomas found himself holding his breath in anticipation, itching to reach out for Newt, who was too far away for comfort. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, until finally she pulled out a name. The Capitol woman blinked, seeming to be confused for a bit, and her voice came out with undertones of confusion. “…Newt…? Newt! Yes, quite the name, is it a nickname?” She kept bumbling along, but Thomas heard none of it. It was as if all the air and all the noise had been sucked out of the world.

Before he even registered what he was doing, he was pushing through the crowd of boys, rushing towards the stage. A Peacekeeper reached for him, but he shrieked, “I volunteer!” and the soldier fell back. “I volunteer!” he repeated, a mantra until he reached the edge of the stage. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“Tommy,” Newt whispered, horror dawning on his features. “Tommy, no–”

“Oooh, seems that we’ve got a volunteer!” the woman said happily, clapping and bouncing on her toes. “What’s your name, son?”

“Thomas,” he answered breathlessly. “Thomas Edson.”

“Well, Mr. Edson,” she smiled, “Welcome onto the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!”

Newt was still gaping, heart and thoughts racing at this new information. Thomas had volunteered. For _him._ Suddenly, everything became a flurry of activity. Thomas and Teresa were being led away from the District center to a quarantine where they’d get their last goodbyes. People were dispersing. Newt found himself numbly following a ways behind the Peacekeepers surrounding the tributes.

Thomas was completely lost. He was ushered into a room where a team of ‘stylists’ waited. They smiled and cooed over him, only lightly brushing his hair and washing his face before visitors were allowed. The real cleaning-up would happen later on the train ride.

The doors of his room swooshed open with the arrival of a visitor.

Newt and Thomas just stared at each other for a long moment, only stopped when Newt looked away, anywhere that wasn’t Thomas, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. It made Thomas’s heart hurt. “Newt,” he whispered.

“I hate you,” Newt replied, voice cracking, the first tears falling. “I can’t stand the sight of your bloody face.” Despite the harsh words, he stepped closer and sat down next to him, voice still wobbling as he continued, “You make me sick, Tommy.”

His own eyes watering. Thomas whispered, “God, Newt, I couldn’t let you–”

“I know. I know. But you still shouldn’t have done it, you shucking shuck face.” He pressed his face into the brunette’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled the blond closer, wrapped his arms around Newt’s skinny frame.

“I love you. So much. You bloody slinthead,” Newt murmured, choking on built-up sobs.

“I love you too, God, Newt,” Thomas answered, laughing a little through his own tears, tilting Newt’s head to look him in the eye. “I love you, too.” Newt blinked up at him, and everything seemed to slow for a moment.

Then the door slid open again, and both boys looked up. A Peacekeeper stood at attention, waiting, gesturing that it was time for Newt to go.

The blond immediately began protesting. “No, no, I can’t leave him–”

The Peacekeeper grabbed Newt’s arm roughly and pulled him to his feet. “Time to get moving.” Another Peacekeeper was called as the Brit began thrashing, his emotions tumbling over and spilling out.

“Tommy,” he cried out. “Tommy, don’t you dare die!”

Those were the last words Thomas heard from District 11.

~*~*~

“So,” Caesar smirked as Thomas tried not to fidget in his seat. “Anyone special at home?”

Thomas chuckled and ducked his head, then sniffed a little. _Play it up,_ they’d said. “Yeah, actually.”

“Oh?” The interviewer leaned in. “C’mon, Tommy, we can keep a secret.”

The nickname was a dagger to the heart. “It’s not really that big of a secret, to be honest,” Tom shrugged. “I mean, I volunteered for him, after all.”

The crowd cooed and awh’d and Caesar frowned empathetically. “Poor boy. How heartbreaking. We wish you luck.”

~*~*~

Thomas warily watched the other tributes training. He wasn’t necessarily sure what to do or where to go. He’d done some of the knife throwing, just to see how good he was with it, and he’d tested himself on the plant identification table, but his best attribute was probably his stealth and speed, and there really wasn’t anything for him to do for that. So he joined a smaller boy from District 12 at the knot-tying table.

“Hi,” the curly-haired boy murmured, not glancing up. “You’re from eleven, right?”

“Yeah. Thomas.”

“Chuck.”

They sat in silence after that, working in synchronization, passing ropes and starting a friendly competition on how many of each other’s knots they could untie. Thomas could taste the alliance already.

~*~*~

He scored a 6 out of 12 in front of the judges. He wasn’t the lowest score. He wasn’t the weakest of the group. He wouldn’t be a target– or, at least, he wouldn’t be the _first_ target.

~*~*~

Thankfully, he and Teresa weren’t dressed up as trees for the Chariot Rides through the Capitol. He couldn’t bring himself to be entirely embarrassed by the green, vine-line attire, though, because he was too awestruck by the sheer amount of people with obnoxiously brightly colored clothing and hair and… was that someone with _purple skin?_

They hadn’t been speaking to each other except when necessary. However, now, surrounded by strangers ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing at each painted Tribute, Teresa muttered, “They’re like starving dogs, aren’t they? Just watching us like we’re steak.”

“All we are is meat to them, anyway,” Thomas muttered back, and a smile quirked the corners of his friend’s lips.

“Good luck, Tom.”

“You too.”

~*~*~

There was no Cornucopia.

Instead, there was a small pile of various weapons and backpacks at the center of the circle of tributes. Surrounding them were fields– to the west, rows of wheat; to the south and east, grass; to the north, corn. The whole area was surrounded by giant stone walls, hundreds of feet tall, covered in layers of ivy. They reminded Thomas of the walls surrounding District 11. Each wall had a crack in it, running all the way from the top to the bottom, and it dawned on Thomas that they were doors.

As the countdown began, a loud grinding sound filled the air as those doors started to open.

“Oh, by the way,” a voice boomed from above, “The real Cornucopia is at the end of the Maze. Good luck.”

A cannon fired, and the Games began.


	2. 2

Thomas immediately turned and ran towards the closest door, which was through stretches of wheat field. Before he could reach the tall coverage from the initial bloodbath, a spear whizzed by his ear, tripping him up with surprise. When he glanced over his shoulder, the boy from District 7 was steadily gaining on him, only pausing to grab his spear again. Inside the wheat field, Thomas stumbled over the loose dirt, slowed down by the thicket. A hand clamped over his mouth, and Thomas started mentally saying goodbye to everyone he ever loved.

“Don’t scream when I let go of you. Don’t run. We’re teaming up now, okay? You’re fast, so am I. We can make it out of here if we work together,” the boy whispered harshly, letting Thomas go after he finished. When the District 11 boy didn’t run, he grinned and held out a hand. “Hi. I’m Minho. Let’s get out of here before someone else tries to kill us. That District 2 boy looked pretty nasty.”

“Thomas. Let’s go.”

With that, they headed towards the maze doors.

“Shuck,” Thomas said suddenly, slowing down.

“What are you doing?!” Minho hissed. “We’re almost there!”

“The District 12 boy. I– I need to find him. I need to make sure he’s okay–”

There was movement a few yards away, and the Asian boy grabbed Thomas’s wrist. “Let’s go, Thomas.” Despite his curiosity and every instinct urging him to find Chuck, Tom started running. They made it into the maze by about noon, but the tall walls cast large shadows that gave off an eerie aura that had Thomas covered in goosebumps.

~*~*~

They walked for hours, left hands along the outer wall, following the Pledge maze algorithm.

“What if the walls aren’t all connected? What if the maze doesn’t have one set ending? We have no idea where the Cornucopia could even be. There were four different entrances to this.”

“Shut up, slinthead,” Minho laughed nervously. His stomach growled. “We’ll find it.”

“He’s got a good point,” a female voice said from behind them. Thomas and Minho whirled around, and two people stepped out from behind one of the disjointed pieces of the maze. Thomas recognized them as the Tributes from District 4. “You two are clever, but you’re stupid. There’s no food in here. There’s no water in here. We don’t know what happens within these walls at night. The Gamekeepers could throw anything at us. So, what’s the big plan? How do you know you aren’t just walking in circles?”

Minho tightened his grip on his spear, and Thomas regretted not having a weapon. It had never occurred to him, in this game to the death, to grab something to protect himself with. Great. “You’re District 4, right?” the Asian asked, taking tentative steps backwards. “Where are your other Career buddies, huh?”

The two laughed. They both looked older to Thomas– probably both eighteen. “That District 1 guy, Alby? Hates every fiber of that District 2 kid’s being. What’s his name?” The girl turned to her friend.

“Gally.”

“Right. Doesn’t really matter. Either way, they’re brawling it out and probably slaughtering half of the Tributes right here and now, so our best bet is to get to the end of this maze as fast as possible.”

Minho and Thomas decided to team up with the pair, whose names turn out to be Brenda and Jorge.

~*~*~

When the sun set, the same noise filled the air that they’d heard at the beginning. The maze walls were closing.

Back in District 11, Newt watched the scene before him nervously, biting his lip. He saw what the Tributes didn’t– the skinny, metal legs clicking closer, just around a few corners from them. The needle-point appendages, the saws, the grotesque, squishy-looking body. The long teeth.

_“We need to keep moving,” Minho breathed, taking on the role of leader._

_“We don’t know what’s out here at night,” Brenda argued, slowing her pace._

_“Exactly. We need to keep moving.”_

_Suddenly, the thick walls seemed to jump out from under their hands, grinding and… rearranging. The walls were rearranging themselves._

_“Oh shuck.”_

Newt closed his eyes, unable to bear the expression on Thomas’s face as the… creature… came into view. “Why’d you do this to yourself, Tommy?”

_“Run!” Jorge yelled. “Just keep running! Don’t look back!”_

When the sun began to rise, Brenda, Minho, and Thomas crawled out from under the thick layer of ivy they’d hidden themselves under to watch the canons. There were thirteen shots. The very first was the District 1 boy that Brenda had called Alby. None from District 2, the girl from 3. Jorge was next. Teresa was still alive, though. So was Chuck. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. Back at home, though, Newt was still holding his breath.

~*~*~

They gave up on following the walls. Instead, they started running in whichever direction Minho’s intuition took him.

“There’s a door!” the Asian boy called from several yards ahead. Thomas and Brenda picked up their pace, and the trio headed towards the entrance. As they reached the big gap in the stone, they slowed cautiously. Minho nudged Thomas. “Sorry, voting you to check it out.”

Thomas rolled his eyes but consented, lightly edging closer to the entrance. When he peered out of the door, disappointment raked down his spine. Cornrows. He could see the top of the walls surrounding the enclosure. “It’s… we’re back to the beginning. We just managed to get to the opposite side of the Arena.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Nothing’s different? No clue that we’ve gotten somewhere else?” Brenda asked, moving to Thomas’s side.

“Not that I can tell. Cornfield’s in the way.”

“Well,” Minho clapped, “Guess there’s only one way to find out. Let’s go. Besides, sun’s setting and I don’t wanna be out here again with those… things.”

All three shuddered at the thought, so they moved in. The air was still and silent; it felt wrong.

~*~*~

Newt couldn’t tear his eyes away as a camera panned the arena aerially. The Gamemakers lied. There was no end to the Maze, no Cornucopia at the end. It was all just one big circle, with the starting point being the center. There was no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ending is up to your own imagination. this fic is abandoned.


End file.
